


as the mountain to the climber

by niblet



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niblet/pseuds/niblet
Summary: Lawson gets hurt. There's not much Travis can do about it from Philly.
Relationships: Lawson Crouse/Travis Konecny
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68
Collections: Flyers Fic Exchange





	as the mountain to the climber

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littleconnections](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleconnections/gifts).

The hockey season is always rough, no matter how good it’s going- full of injuries and little aches, stress and travel and homesickness, up and down and absolutely exhausting, physically and mentally. Travis figured nothing could be as bad as last year, the endless, demoralising drag of near-constant losing, and maybe it’s not, but this season’s been rough, in its own way. The brutal travel schedule to start the year off, for one. Patty to carefully worry over, where he can’t see, another. G’s got a baby this year, which is a good sort of exhausting, and a bunch of headlines about how maybe he’s finally starting to fall off at 31, which is less so. And there’s the trade rumours, which haven’t really started early so much as never really went away over the off-season, incessant and increasingly loud, never mind it’s not even December. 

It’s good, at least, that they have Hayesy this year. He’s not Simmer and that’s a weird ache, like an old bruise, if he thinks about it, but Kev’s trying. He’s loud and funny and obnoxious, a good distraction from all the bad shit. He gets the boys hyped before games, tells a series of increasingly insane stories to the rookies whenever any of them get too far into their own heads or winds Carter up until he snaps and finally relaxes. He watches out for Patty, too, in weird, gentle ways, too subtle for Pats to protest, but would never let Travis get away with. Kev’s exhausting, in his own way, almost too much sometimes, but he cares, pours everything he’s got into this team. It’s nice, a bright spot when even Oskar has started looking worn out all the time from the grind.

It’s easily the most tired Travis has ever been playing hockey, sore enough that sometimes even breathing hurts, but he’s playing good hockey. The _team _is playing good hockey. For the most part, at least. They’re winning just as much as they lose, but even the losses don’t feel bad most of the time. It doesn’t feel like last year, or even the season before that. He’s got a coach who trusts him, a team that feels like it’s almost there, just a few games away from really clicking and making an actual run for it, as unbelievable as that feels. 

He _feels _lighter, this tentative good feeling Travis is trying not to think about too hard like he could spook it. Patty’s gonna come back and no one’s gonna get traded. G’s gonna get out of his weird slump, the rookies are gonna be fine. Travis might even get some actual sleep any day now. It’s gonna be good, he _knows _it.

So of course, Lawson goes down.

He doesn’t see it happen. They make it home in time for Travis to catch the last half of the first period and he makes sure to text Law when he scores in the second, but they’d played a matinee (and lost, in the fucking shootout, and Travis tries to shake off loses, he does, but losing in the shootout always hurts worst), their third game in five days, and he’d passed out waiting for the third to start. 

When he wakes up, it’s to the house gone dark and quiet, the tv long since frozen on the “the game you are watching has ended” screen. His beer is lukewarm and only half-drank, and he’s sore as shit, hunched over awkwardly, neck bent at a painful angle. His whole body protests when he straightens.

He fishes his phone out from between the cushions to check the time, contemplates rewinding to the third period and watching or just cheating and checking the boxscore. It’s nearing three am, which means he was asleep for hours, but even this early in the season, there’s no such thing as enough sleep, especially not in his own bed. It’s tempting.

He’s got a couple dozen unread texts, half of which are probably just Patty bitching about being bored. Two of the most recent are from Stromer, which is unusual but not unprecedented, and one’s from Bo, which _is _actually kinda weird. A couple from his mom. There’s nothing from Law, which is also a little weird, but could mean anything. He’s ready to ignore it all, deal with it in the morning maybe, if he remembers, and just pull up the boxscore. Except then he actually reads his mom’s message.

**__**_Kristen says he’s okay_, the last one says. _Let us know when you hear from him_.

He doesn’t bother rewinding the game, just pulls up google and types in Law’s name. Clicks the first youtube link he finds. Watches it. Almost wishes he didn’t, before hitting replay another two times.

Rolls himself off the couch and stretches out onto the floor, after. Presses his shoulders back into the hardwood, to help with the ache. Tries to breathe through the tightness in his chest. The carpet is itchy on his cheek, which weirdly helps. There’s a bunch of crumbs under the coffee table that they should probably vacuum up soon. 

Travis pulls up his texts again, double checks that there’s nothing from Law. 

For a second, he’s angry at that, that Law didn’t say anything, didn’t even let him know he’s okay**. **It’s gone just as fast. If it’s a head injury, they probably told him to stay away from screens. Maybe he was waiting for Travis to call. 

He was down for so long.

The worst part is, it wasn’t even a dirty play, someone to be angry at. Someone to chirp a little harder the next time they play the Kings. It was just shitty luck, a weird fall that went bad. Nothing to be done about it.

God, but it’d be nice if the world stopped hurting his friends brains, already.

He texts Law, just in case, a quick _call me when you can_, he’s not sure when Law will see. Maybe he’ll get someone to read his texts to him in the morning. He’ll try calling tomorrow if he doesn’t hear from him.

He thinks about texting Chych, maybe, to see if he can get an update, but it’s late. The Yotes have another game tomorrow. Chych probably wouldn’t even see it till the morning.

His phone rings before he can decide, and he almost drops it on his face in surprise. It’s Law though, and he fumbles it to his ear instead, fast enough that it makes a solid smacking sound when it hits his cheek.

“Hey,” he says, hushed and a little breathless, mindful of Sanny, probably asleep in his room, but especially of Law’s head. “Should you even be on the phone right now?”

It’s got to be at least near midnight or past it there. Travis can never quite remember how Arizona time works, just enough to know it’s late, and Law should probably be asleep.

“Shut up, I can’t sleep and I’m bored,” he says, a whine, but there’s a genuine pained edge to it. 

Travis hums. 

It’s not worth arguing. Law is stubborn and more than that, Travis _wants _to talk to him. He hasn’t had the chance to for a few days now. Nothing more than a quick flurry of text messages. A few late night snaps. 

It’s not the same.

“How’s the head?” he asks, because he can’t not, and it’s better than asking why Law hadn’t texted him earlier.

“Eh, still attached,” he says. There’s a rustle of cloth, like he’s shrugging, and then the familiar fumblings of being put on speakerphone. Travis pictures him, lying in bed. Lights dimmed, eyes closed. All familiar broad shoulders and tanned skin against his sheets. Wishes he could facetime him, see it for real. 

“At least we won,” Law adds. Travis can hear his grin, the one that’s usually accompanied by bruised knuckles and blood on his teeth. A little bit of the tension bleeds out of him.

“Fuck the King, eh?”

Law laughs, full-bodied.

“I think you mean fuck the Flames, eh? They were on a what, six game losing streak going into today, yeah?” he says, because he’s a _brat. _He’s got so many people fooled, all big, blonde and baby-faced, thinking he’s sweet, but Travis knows the truth. He’s a shithead.“Can’t believe you let Tkachuk get the game-winner.”

“I’m hanging up on you,” Travis says, mostly to hear Law laugh again.

“You wouldn’t,” Law says, a little teasing, a little smug, but mostly he just sounds fond in a way that kicks Travis in the gut. 

They’re both too quiet, a weird silence Travis doesn’t know what to do with.

What he wants to do is press, ask how bad it is really, how long Law’s going to be out. But these things are unpredictable; Travis has had enough head injuries of his own to know. And he’s spent enough time injured or around Patty and his migraines to know you get sick of answering questions real fast. Law’s tired and in pain. He knows Law isn’t purposefully trying to brush him off, but trying to get a real answer out of him would just annoy him. 

Law and him don’t fight, not really. Never have. They squabble and they’re competitive. They argue about hockey, are absolute shits to each other on the ice, but that’s different. Travis doesn’t want to have to fight about this. 

But the Yotes are supposed to be in Philly in less than two weeks. 

Law sighs, like he knows exactly what Travis is thinking. He probably does.

“It really wasn’t as bad as it looked,” he says, quiet and sure, so Travis knows he’s being serious. “I’ll be back in time to kick your ass, quit worrying.”

Travis shrugs, even if Law can’t see it. He can’t help it.

He’s had the date circled in his calendar since the schedule was released back in June, weeks before they had gone out fishing together, a rare weekend when Law had been back home instead of in Toronto. There had been beers and sun and an endless stream of all the country music they’d grown up listening to blasting from Travis’ phone, long ago abandoned somewhere on the floor of the boat. Law had been laughing about something on his phone, whatever dumbass shit Marns and Stromer were up to, and Travis had looked at him and thought _yes_ for no reason_. _Had looked at him, golden in the light, cheeks just beginning to go pink with alcohol or a burn, and missed him so fiercely even though he was right there. Had looked at him, overwhelmed and helpless with it, and when Law had finally looked back up at him, it was impossible not to tip forward and kiss him.

And when he pulled away, voice stuck high in his throat, Law’s eyes had been bright, and this time he was the one who leaned forward, kissed his laughter right into Travis’ mouth. Hadn’t hesitated a moment. Had kept kissing him, dizzying and familiar and sweet until Travis had to fling himself into the cool water of the lake or explode.

Had let Travis put his hands on every inch of his sun-warmed skin later, learned the shape of him in a whole new way.

Had gone back to Toronto with a new mark high on his neck, without ever really talking about it. Had made no promises, but kissed Travis up against the door hard like he was, before he drove away.

Had called as soon as he got home anyway, let Travis talk him through getting himself off again. Called him again the next night and the one after, until Travis stopped counting. Hadn’t stopped, even after he headed back down to Arizona, came up with all sorts of things for when they saw each other again.

They have _plans,_ is what he’s saying. 

It’s almost weird how little has changed, when he thinks about it. The day to day of it is the same, everything they’ve always been for each other. But now, the dirty snaps Law sometimes sends are meant just for him. Now Law facetimes him when he wants to get off, not just when he’s pissed after a bad game. Now, inbetween chirps and shitty memes, Law texts him stupid, sappy shit that makes Travis grin helplessly at his phone.

Patty’s caught him doing it more than once now, always snorts and gives him shit for suddenly being attached to his phone, all big words about manners and being “present in the moment”, like he isn’t constantly on his own, the fucking hypocrite. 

“Patty’s finally rubbing off on you, eh?” Kev had said with an obnoxious wink, the one time Patty made the mistake of throwing a fit within earshot of him. Patty had wrinkled his nose in disgust, hurled a tasteful throw pillow at Kevin that he’d easily dodged. Kevin had laughed like a fucking hyena all the way to his room while Patty pouted.

“Aw, don’t be jealous Pats, you know I still love you, bud,” Travis had said, and climbed all over him, making kissy sounds in his face and sneaking his fingers into his armpits, until Patty was even redder than usual and choking on his laughter. Didn’t let Patty shove Travis off him and onto the ground until he was crying for mercy.

“I hate you,” Patty had said to the ceiling, still huffing for breath, and Travis had grinned. And then his phone had gone off again and his face probably got all gooey but Patty had just smirked and said, “Tell Crouser I said hi,” before rolling onto his feet and wandering off to bother Kevin into making him snacks.

Didn’t even give Travis any shit for being a sappy fucker, because Pat’s a good dude, beneath all that obnoxious asshole exterior.

On the line Law breathes and breathes and keeps breathing, gives Travis on the time he needs.

Travis thinks about all their plans, tentative and sure in turns. For Philly in just a few weeks, and for Arizona a month after. For the brief holiday break where Law will only be 40 minutes up the road from him, for the six days of overlap in bye weeks, for the summer, always too short. 

He thinks about the next season and the season after that and the one after that. Thinks about the years stretching ahead of them, all the ones behind them. Thinks about all they’ve shared, beds and teams and baths and hockey, always hockey. Thinks about losing that, fears, feels fragile with it.

“You scared me, bud,” he says finally, when they both have been quiet for too long, because in the end, Travis has never been good at not just blurting out whatever he’s feeling. 

Law laughs, harsh and a little pained. “Scared me too,” he says. It comes out hushed, like a secret, just another thing to share.

Maybe Travis makes a noise, who knows, because Law laughs again, but gentler, softer. Sweet.

“I’ll be fine,” he says again, a promise, like it’s Travis that’s hurt, like Travis is the one who needs comforting. Classic Law. Still that same kid who used to drive his rookies to school in the O like he was their dad. “C’mon, tell me about the team. How’s Patrick?”

And Travis loves him for asking, thinks for just a moment, about trying to wrangle the two of them out to the lake at the same time, just the three of them and the water and sun and fish. It’d be a good time. 

Maybe after next season.

He grins, thinks Law can probably hear it down the line.

Because Travis can comfort too, and if Law needs him to talk, Travis can talk. 

“Okay, so you know how Beezer is on instagram, right?” he says, and launches into a story of all the stupid shit that the rookies have dragged him into, delights in describing in detail the horror on G and Raffl’s faces, until his throat hurts and Law is muffling his tired laughter behind his hands.

“Buddy, I love you,” Law says (and it’s not like it’s the first time he’s said it, not even since they’ve started this thing. Travis has heard so many versions of it over the years, has said it just as much. But there’s a part of him that lights up anyway, thrills at it, and he can hear Law’s smile gone goofy, the pause like Law’s also stuck in it), “But you’re an idiot.”

Travis laughs.

“You sure know how to sweet talk a guy, eh?” he says, finally drags himself off the floor and back onto the couch. He should go to this room probably, plug his phone in, but it all seems too far away, not when Law’s right here, close and in his ear.

“I’ll show you sweet talk,” Law says, whatever attempt at seduction ruined when he follows it up with a yawn hard enough to crack his jaw.

Travis snorts.

“With whatever pain meds you’re on, could you even get it up?” he says, feeling unbearably fond.

Law hums.

“Go to sleep,” Travis tells him. Law hums again, agreeable, easy going in that way that always lowkey fucks Travis up. Law is big and golden and steady, but he’s always let Travis lead him around on a string, even back when they were kids. He got them into all sorts of dumb shit, especially on the farm, and Law had just laughed it off and followed him around the next time anyway.

“See you in Philly,” Law mumbles, sure, and Travis trusts him, believes him. “I’ll score a goal and everything, just for you.”

“You wish,” he says, listens to the way Law’s breathing evens out.

It’s not the first time they’ve fallen asleep on the phone together. If he closes his eyes, it’s easy to imagine Law next to him. They’ve shared enough beds long before this was even a possibility. He knows the shape of Law, the spaces he takes up, as easy as breathing now.

He wishes he was there. He always does, but now, more than ever. He wants to touch, make sure Law is whole. Law can reassure him all he wants but Travis isn’t going to believe it until he can see it with his own eyes. He wants to run his fingers through Law’s hair just the way he likes, wants to be gentle. Wants Law in the bed right next to him, warm and close and his, like back when they were kids, sharing secrets and dreams. The ache of panic has faded, muted, turned into this. Missing Law’s a different, more familiar sort of hurt. 

He just _wants. _Maybe too much, but it’s Law. 

He stays on the couch, listens to Law sleep, until his battery runs out. 

**Author's Note:**

> title from on friendship by kahlil gibran _(for that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.)_
> 
> one of your prompts was about them being far apart, and idk but this is where my brain went! honestly can't believe this happened back in november, this season has been _too_ eventful, jeez. anyway, hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading and participating in the exchange!!!


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